


A Brick is just a Domesticated Rock

by Vitamin_Me



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 06:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17239229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitamin_Me/pseuds/Vitamin_Me
Summary: Alexei Mashkov goes to pick up Jack and Bitty’s toddler from pre-school and ends up picking up Kent Parson (two-time Stanley Cup champion turned kindergarten teacher) instead.Luckily for us, Kent is still as messy as we remember.





	A Brick is just a Domesticated Rock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StilesSmiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StilesSmiles/gifts).



> For StileSmiles’ prompt: “One is a kindergarten teacher, the other picks up his niece/nephew or a teammate's kid and suddenly starts finding lots of excuses to pick the kid up more often after meeting the teacher. Also, please include adorable and potentially matchmaking children :-)”
> 
> I’m very sorry but I discovered the hard way (i.e., halfway through the fic) that I really cannot write children to save my life, so it’s lighter on the actual children content than you’d probably prefer. ☹ Live and Learn. I tried my best, and hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Set about ~15 years into the future, where Jack and Kent have both retired, Kent a little ahead of schedule. Tater is no longer with the Falcs (I headcannon him to be with the Rangers, but it’s open to interpretation) but still trucking along; he is now amongst the oldest players still active in the league.

The thing is, Alexei _loves_ Jack and Bitty. He really does. He likes them individually and he likes even better as a couple, and ever since Jack’s retirement three years ago, he doesn’t get to see them nearly as often as he’d like. So when Bitty invited him to spend the early part of the summer with them in Providence following his team’s unexpected first round exit from the playoffs, it never even occurred to him to say no.

Jack, Bitty, their adorable toddler, and unlimited Bitty pies. What’s not to love?

 

* * *

What’s not to love, as it turns out, is how Alexei is currently hiding in his guest bedroom and watching UFC on mute, if only for a chance to catch his breath from the relentless domesticity of it all. Alexei is no stranger to married couples – he’s closing in the big four-zero, now, and almost all of his friends are married or on their way to it, but. He’s never known anyone to be as capital-M-Married as Jack and Bitty apparently are.

It’s not all bad. Laurie, their three-year-old, is about as cute as they come, with big wide eyes and just the tiniest hint of Bitty’s southern drawl. Alexei’s lost entire days daydreaming about how to steal her without having to face the wrath of Bad Bob Zimmerman.

Plus, unfettered access to Bitty’s famous weekend pancake breakfasts? Sign him up.

But if he has to hear Jack make one more uninspired dad joke (“sorry Tater, my boys’ night out isn’t until next week, but since Bitty is also a boy it’s actually boys’ night out every time we leave the house, ha ha ha”) or moderate one more argument about how they can turn the removal of their racoon problem into a valuable learning opportunity for Laurie (she’s three. THREE!) Alexei cannot be held responsible for his actions.

So, in a fit of desperation – anything to get him outside of the house – he’d volunteered to pick up Laurie from her fancy French immersion private school in the afternoon, so Jack and Bitty can go to Restoration Hardware for the third time in a week for god knows what reason. At this point Alexei almost wishes he could believe they’re sneaking off to have sex where he can’t hear, but alas, he’s been pulled into enough debates about the merits of rustic chic coffee tables trunks vs. their unacceptably un-childproof-able corners to know better.

Sigh.

Three hours later, Alexei finds himself on the wrong side of a set of tall black iron gates trying (and failing) to convince the pickup supervisor that yes, Tater is a nickname, and yes, Tater is _my_ nick name, Mashkov is like mashed potato, get it? No I don’t have a piece of ID with “Tater” on it. Does my Wikipedia page count? 

Meanwhile, the pickup supervisor is looking increasingly like she wants Alexei arrested, which is not good, and one of the other moms has been eyeing him up and down like she wants Alexei “arrested”, which only adds to the urgency of the situation.

He needs to get Laurie and get out of there, pronto.

“Please, you can just bring her out, yes? I’m not say anything and she will recognize me. Give me big smile and run for hug! You’ll see!”

“I’m sorry Mr. Mashkov, that’s against our policy,” the pickup supervisor says with the patience of someone who gets paid overtime by the minute. “Also, Laurie does that to anyone who smells like pie, which is hardly reliable.”

She’s not wrong, but she’s also not helping. The mom who’s been ogling Alexei this whole time has undone the top two buttons of her blouse with the subtlety of a sexually charged goal horn, maintaining eye contact all the while. Jack and Bitty aren’t picking up the phone either, which is moving the needle of their afternoon activity uncomfortably from “home goods addiction” towards “sexcapade”, and that’s just the last thing Alexei wants to think about right now.

The frantic desperation on his face must be a great deal more convincing than his Wikipedia page, because the pickup supervisor eventually takes pity on him.

“We have a staff member who is a friend of Jack’s, and also familiar with hockey,” she allows, picking up the phone with clear reluctance, “I’ll page him to drop by and see if he’d be willing to sign for you.”

“Oh thank you, thank you so much.” Alexei heaves a huge sigh of relief. Surely, a hockey fan who is friends with Jack Zimmerman would at least know who he is. Alexei doesn’t have any signed merch on him, but the branded snapback he’s wearing is still new enough not to be embarrassing, and there are plenty of sharpies on the sign-in desk.

Alexei hears rapid footsteps approaching from behind, accompanied by “alright Kate, where’s the guy trying to kidnap Zimms’ kid?” and pastes on his most blinding, TV appropriate smile.

Which falls off his face the second he turns around.

“Parson??”

“Mashkov??”

 

* * *

“So, uh. You’re staying with Zimms, I assume?”

If Alexei thought the whole pickup experience was bad, it’s got nothing on the level of awkward that’s been marinating in his car for the past ten minutes. In addition to listing him on the pickup sheet as “Tater”, Jack has also conveniently forgotten to inform him that part of the routine involves giving Parson a ride home afterwards, which Alexei is now stuck doing.

Driving Kent Parson, who apparently retired from the NHL to teach gym at a fancy private school in Providence. The same school that Jack Zimmerman’s kid goes to.

What the fuck?

Between Parson’s retirement and Alexei’s own steady move from first to third D-pairing over time, it’s been years since they’ve really interacted on the ice. Still, there’s no love lost, and he certainly wouldn’t have expected Jack and Parson to be BFFs again, given the fallout from Jack’s coming out all those years ago.

“Yes, I’m stay with Zimmboni,” Alexei starts, and is interrupted by a soft huff of a laugh.

“Sorry man, it’s just, it’s been years since I’ve heard someone call him that, you know? Now all the kids call him Mr. Zimmerman this and Mr. Zimmerman that. I’m more used to that being his dad; it’s weird.”

Alexei nods absently. “Yes, I’m know. Is good to see Zimmboni be dad, so happy, but is also weird how he is dad like, one hundred and ten percent.”

“Oh my god, tell me about it. It’s like he doesn’t know how to do anything half way. Hockey? Stanley Cup champion. Gay? Comes out on national TV. Dad? It’s like he thinks he’s starring on HGTV, Property Gays: we can be cliché too! In fact,” Parson leans over and grins conspiratorially at Alexei from under his lashes, “I’ll bet you twenty bucks he’s at Home Depot right now, which is why you’re stuck with the dirty work.”

Alexei can’t help but grin back. “Is Restoration Hardware today, so you lose!”

“Fuck!” Parson swears, then whips around to check the back seat fast enough to give himself a concussion. “Oh thank god she’s asleep. Zimms would never forgive me if I taught her to swear before her thirtieth birthday.”

“Is big dream, for her be lady when living with hockey players.”

“Right? I told him he was delusional, and he didn’t like that one bit. Maybe he’ll listen to you.” Parson finishes fussing with Laurie’s blanket and settles back into the passenger seat at a much safer pace. “You’re gonna have to take a rain check on the twenty though, this school is so fancy they actually have a no cash policy.”

“Why you teach there?” Alexei asks, purposefully open ended. He could mean why in Providence, why serve rich people you clearly don’t like, why waste your time with kids who can barely even walk when you could easily find a job at the pro level. He’d take any of those answers, but more than anything he wants to know why Parson retired in the first place. It had been a bit of a shock to the hockey world when the Aces Captain called it quits at the ripe old age of 36, and without any major injuries or family issues.

“I’m not really qualified to teach kids, but these rich snobs like the idea of having a former pro, and athletes who can speak French aren’t exactly easy to find in Providence.”

Alexei didn’t ask “why did they hire you”, but he also doesn’t know how to respond without sounding either dismissive or prying. The awkwardness settles over them again, like cold glasses fogging over in a warm room, and only then did Alexei realize they had been having a surprisingly amicable chat up until then. Surprising, given their short, but no less hostile, history.

“Hey, you never did answer me earlier,” Parson says, in an obvious but nonetheless appreciated attempt to break the ice again. “You staying with Zimms? For how long?”

Alexei nods. “Yes, three more week. I’m hope we go more than first round, but it not happen. No plans with family until later, and Bitty say come stay, play with Laurie, eat pie, sounds good, yes? But he not tell me about Home Depot addiction.”

“Yeah, the toddler and the pie is how they get you,” Parson smiles warmly, “and I’m sorry about the playoffs. You guys really outplayed them, but a hot goalie can be a real bitch like that.”

“You know.” Alexei agrees easily, because if anyone knows it’s two-time Stanley Cup champion Kent Parson. He would have included Stanley Cup champion Jack Zimmerman on the list too, except Jack had apparently been so busy with Laurie that he didn’t even follow the playoffs, and it was Bitty who noticed, who reached out with the invite. Learning about that had left him feeling unexpectedly hollow.

Alexei glances over at Parson, leaning into his seatbelt and seemingly content to let the silence run this time. He knows he shouldn’t push, but…

“Is why you quit?” He asks, and Parson sucks in a noisy breath, straightens up to stare straight ahead. Fuck. Alexei knew better, but it’s too late now. “Playoffs is like more luck than skill sometimes. I’m feel so tired, after losing like that.” Go big or go home.

For maybe the first time in the entire ride, Parson fully rotates in his seat to look right at Alexei. It’s strangely intense, and Alexei resists the urge to stare back so he doesn’t drive them off the road.

“Nah,” Parson finally says, after several more unnerving beats of silence, “I quit ‘cause I finally found a sugar daddy rich enough to support my lifestyle. Why get slammed into the boards when you can get slammed into memory foam instead, you know?”

Now it’s Alexei’s turn to whip around to face him, oncoming traffic be damned, and… the little rat. Parson is biting his lip hard enough for the edges to turn white, cheeks bright pink and eyes squinty from trying not to laugh.

“You little rat,” Alexei sighs, and Parson bursts into obnoxiously loud giggles, interspersed with the occasional wheeze as he hunches over with glee. It wasn’t _that_ funny.

“You should have seen your face!” Parson gasps, finally settling with a series of gross hacking coughs. “Oh my god, I wish I had my phone out. Bits could only _wish_ for this kind of high quality footage.”

Alexei is saved from some seriously undignified pouting by the arrival of their destination, a swanky looking condo near town centre with an uniformed doorman. Parson hops out light and quick (so much for the secret injury theory), but he pauses for a moment, holding onto the passenger door.

“Hey, uh, thanks for the ride man, I know you didn’t sign up for this.”

“You welcome,” Alexei says, and isn’t even surprised to find that he really didn’t mind.

Still, though, Parson hesitates.

“So, uh, there aren’t many hockey guys around here,” Parson glances around guiltily, as if he’s expecting someone to pop out of the bushes to correct him, “so if you wanna catch a game together or something, you know, just let me know. Not the playoffs, obviously, but you know what I mean. You can get my number from Zimms.”

Having said his piece, he nods once, shuts the door, and walks away without looking back.

 _Well, that was weird_ , Alexei thinks, as he drives away from Parson’s condo towards Jack’s two-story walk-out-basement white picket fence family home. He can’t help but wonder if “aren’t many hockey guys around here” really means “don’t have many friends”, and then immediately feels bad. On-ice rivalry aside, Parson seemed alright from the short drive’s worth of interaction, and if Jack and Bitty decided that he can be trusted to teach their kid even after all that happened, surely, he can’t be all bad.

Plus, it felt good. To talk hockey with someone who still cares but without the pressure to pick it apart, and to finally commiserate with someone who understands how stifling Jack’s new domestic identity can be. Overall, a strange but surprisingly pleasant detour in his afternoon plans.

Whatever, it’s not like he’s actually going to see Parson again.

 

* * *

… he sees Parson again.

In fact, he sees Parson so often that it quickly becomes suspicious.

It starts out innocently enough. The very next day, Alexei returns from a late lunch with some other ex-Falcs who have settled in Providence post-retirement to the sight of Parson and Laurie colouring at the coffee table.

“Hi Uncle Tater!”

“Oof!” Alexei pretends to be bowled over from where Laurie had flung herself around his legs and is treated to peals of delighted laugher. “Grow so big, so strong! Next year you pick me up, ok?”

“Ok!” Laurie says, sticking her arms up in a wordless request that Alexei obliges happily, gently swinging her in the air.

“Where Daddy and Papa go?”

“Daddy and Popow go to farmer’s market!” Laurie replies excitedly from mid-air. Behind her,  
Parson rolls his eyes so hard his whole head moves with it, and Alexei ducks his head to hide his smile.

“Who this here?” Alexei tucks Laurie against his side on one arm and turns so they both face where Parson is still sitting. “We trust him, you think?”

Parson screws his brows together in an expression of mock outrage. Laurie nods solemnly. “Mr. Parson teaches gym at school. Daddy says we can trust him, but we can’t let him bring Kit because she will destroy the couch.”

“Hey!” Parson sniffs, offended. “Kit has great taste and the couch is ugly. She is only trying to help.”

Alexei is tempted to agree. The couch is a rather unflattering shade of green that doesn’t fit with the rest of the décor. It’s an odd choice, and he keeps feeling a strange sense of déjà vu whenever he looks at it, almost like he’s seen it before.

“When I’m get to meet Kit?” Alexei demands, even though he’d only really met Parson himself two days ago. Anything to shake off the weird couch vibes.

Parson brightens. “You two can come over any time! Kit loves Laurie, and she’ll probably just think you’re a tree, so it’s no problem. Hey, do you follow her on Instagram?”

***

Alexei ends up following both Kit Purrson and Kent Parson on Instagram. The latter of which seem to consist entirely of beautifully lit, soft filtered candid shots of Kent gazing out at beautiful scenery, and terribly lit, red-eyed-flash-back photos of Kent losing his mind at Britney Spears concerts. There is no middle ground.

He finds them equally charming, which is a bit of an alarming development.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Bitty asks him to drop off a basket of rolls for Kent (it’s Kent now, apparently) while they take Laurie to her singing lessons. Alexei wisely does not question why a three-year-old needs singing lessons, or why said lessons require the supervision of two fully grown adults. One lecture about his lack of early childhood education is enough for one trip, thank you very much.

So Alexei had shown up with the honest to god wicker basket in hand, gingham cloth and everything. Kent took one look at him and almost pissed himself laughing about the “big bad Russian wolf grandma” on his doorstep, until Alexei just _had_ to tackle him into a noogie for his own good.

After that, well, it was only polite to stay and help Kent eat them. Alexei is the only one doing NHL-calibre workouts anymore, and it would be a shame to let Kent ruin his figure.

Not that Alexei’s noticed or anything.

 

* * *

 

The third time Alexei sees Kent, it’s a set-up by Jack.

“Hey Tater, you got any plans tomorrow night?”

Alexei looks up from where he’s contemplating whether that last slice of blueberry pie is worth being made the “rabbit” at the Chase the Rabbit drill for tomorrow’s training. He shakes his head. What a silly train of thought; Bitty’s pies are _always_ worth the pain.

“My dad got a couple of tickets to see the Providence Bruins in the Calder playoffs, but Bits and I have plans already. Why don’t you take them? You can go with a friend… how about Kenny?”

Alexei stares. From the next room, there is the faint sound of Bitty facepalming.

“Why Bad Bob have Providence Bruins tickets? He live in Montreal.” Alexei questions reasonably.

“Oh uh,” Jack stutters, “I don’t know why. Maybe someone confused the Providence Bruins with the Boston Bruins? Ha, ha. I mean -“

He is saved from himself by Bitty, who shoves him aside in an impressive display of strength. There’s a tiny pen smudge on Bitty’s chin, probably from the facepalming.

“Honey, bless your heart, but you’ve got none of your father’s tact. Tater, don’t worry about why we have those tickets. They’re yours if you want them. And don’t feel like you have to take Kent!” Bitty pauses. He’s a better liar than Jack ever will be, although the damages has already been done. “Most of the guys with kids are going to be at the amusement park with us though, so they won’t be around to go with you. Maybe if - “

“Ok, I’m go. I ask if Kent free.”

“Oh, reall- I mean, great! I’ll email transfer them to you. Have fun! Jack, sweetheart, I need your help in the kitchen.”

With that, Bitty drags Jack off, no doubt to debrief on their disaster of a set-up. Alexei isn’t stupid, it’s obvious that Jack and Bitty are trying to get Kent to make more friends. He is a little offended on Kent’s behalf – from what he’s seen, the guy is perfectly capable of socializing by himself – but he’s always down for watching a hockey game, and unlike the Stanley Cup playoffs, AHL hockey doesn’t come with the added requirement to obsess over their team’s first round exit. It’s hardly a chore, and Alexei’s too smart to bite the hand that feeds him homemade pies.

What’s the worst that could happen?

 

* * *

 

The game is an absolute train wreck.

The Providence Bruins lose at home in overtime, which is a classic formula for a riot. Alexei had forgotten how much rowdier AHL games can be: there are more fights in the crowd than on the ice, and he’s pretty sure he saw at least one woman flashing her tits at the mascot.

Kent gets full-on wasted and into a shouting match with some guy who has at least 100 pounds on him, so Alexei is forced to physically throw him over his shoulder to remove him from the premises. It’s less to protect Kent and more so because if the guy called Kent a whiny twink one more time, _Alexei_ was going to have to fight the asshole himself, and then there would be no one left to bail out either of them.

“Hey, hey, did Jack ever tell you you have a great ass? Cu-‘cause you totally do.” Kent slurs from where he’s hanging over Alexei’s shoulder. There’s a movement like he’s making a swipe at said ass and mostly missing.

Alexei walks faster.

They make it back to Kent’s condo relatively unscathed, because no way is Alexei bringing Kent in his current state around to Jack’s, where children will be present. The cab driver mercifully did not seem to understand much English, or was at least inspired enough by their generous tip to pretend.

“Is that a hockey stick in your pocket or are you just happy to see – oh wait, that’s your phone. Fuck. Hey, where’s my Biosteel? Bastards at Gatorade sponsored Crosby over me, I’ll show ‘em…”

Feeling reasonably sure that Kent won’t pass out and die in the next 15 minutes, Alexei leaves him flailing about on the couch and avails himself to the hallway bathroom. Sober Alexei is clearly a genius for insisting they both paint their faces Bruins colours to avoid recognition, but taking the paint off is a real pain without the packet of wipes he’d left at Jack’s place.

By the time he exits the shower, Kent had disappeared from the living room, and Alexei follows the trail of clothes like breadcrumbs to find him curled up into a surprisingly small ball in the corner of his bed, face paint and all.

Alexei takes a second to contemplate the merits of Kent’s aesthetic-over-comfort white leather couch vs. his mostly unoccupied king bed – minus Kent in the corner and Kit smack dab in the middle - and promptly decides he is too old for this.

He climbs in, turns off the lights, and is out in seconds.

***

“Come on, princess, let’s not – no, Kit!”

Alexei sputters, rudely awakened by a face full of cat. He blinks his eyes open to the sight of Kent clutching Kit to his chest, who looks distinctly unimpressed.

“Sorry about that, man. She doesn’t usually come into the bedroom when there’s strangers here, but you must be special.” Kent smiles apologetically. He must have been up for a while already, or at least long enough to shower off the face paint from last night.

“Mmurgh,” Alexei says eloquently. How did the cat fur get in his _mouth_?

Kent snorts and settles onto the corner of the bed, still holding onto Kit.

“So, uh, thanks for getting us back last night. Sorry if I was a pain in the ass, I haven’t gone drinking in a while and it hit me harder than I expected.” Kent grimaces. “I know I can be a lot, and, uh –“

“Yes,” Alexei says, “was a lot. A lot of fun. We do again?”

Kent’s eyes widen with surprise. “Yeah?” He asks, his whole face brightening. Here in the soft morning light with his cowlick going in at least three directions, he looks a decade younger. Alexei decides he likes it.

“Yes, but not today, I’m too old for go again so soon. Maybe next time don’t start fight with man three times bigger than you, yes?”

“I still think I could have taken him,” Kent mutters darkly, but he’s still smiling. “Ok, deal. Breakfast?”  

“Breakfast.” Alexei agrees.

 

* * *

 

After that, it’s like the dam is finally broken, and Alexei starts spending enough time with Kent that even Laurie picks up on it, demanding that she be brought along to hang out with Kit. Alexei is only too happy to oblige, diligently ignoring the increasingly judgmental side-eyes from Bitty. Whatever; Kent receives enough of Bitty’s baking that Alexei is confident of his de facto approval.

Before he knows it, the three weeks are almost up, and Alexei finds himself genuinely sad at the prospect of not hanging out with Kent again. For all the time they’ve spent together, Kent hasn’t given any indication of interest beyond that of a friend, so Alexei isn’t holding his breath about keeping in touch once the next season rolls around.

It’s a couple of days before his flight to Russia, and they’re lounging on Kent’s very uncomfortable but aesthetically on-point couch, nursing beers and mostly tuning out the movie they’re supposed to be watching. On the screen, the male protagonist had just face-planted hard on a skating date, after lying about being playing hockey professionally to impress his date.

“I bet I could still finish a whole lap before he even gets up,” Kent scoffs. Alexei suddenly remembers that Kent had been runner-up at the fastest skater event at least three times over his many all-star game appearances.

“You ever beat McDavid, at fastest skater?” He asks.

“Not really, no. I won it one year, but McDavid was out with an injury, so I don’t think that counts.” Kent looks over. “What about you? Ever beat Weber at hardest shot?”

Alexei groans. “No, and I’m never win even after Weber retire. Laine win, the one year I’m break 100.”

“Yeah well, joke’s on them. You’re at, what, 1,300 games now? And still going strong. Who would’ve thought you’d outlast us all?”

Alexei looks over. Kent is still staring at the TV, but he’s got a choking grip around the neck of his beer.

“Why you quit, Kent?” Alexei finally asks. It’s been bothering him since the chat in his car, weeks ago. It feels like so much longer.

Kent’s head snaps to face Alexei, but he keeps his eyes down.

“What?”

“Why you quit hockey, Kent? You’re still good, not injure. Maybe not as fast as before, but Aces get you fast wingers, is no problem.”

 “I… yeah, no. It wasn’t… it wasn’t ‘cause I couldn’t play anymore,” Kent says after a long pause. “I just… you know after Zimms’ came out, and I did too?”

Alexei nods. He remembers. The speculation surrounding Kent after Jack’s very public coming out at the Stanley Cup Final had been unlike anything he’d seen before in sports media. Kent had eventually bowed to the pressure and announced his own coming out, but that was apparently not enough for the uglier segments of the fan base, who accused him of either being a bad influence on Jack, or playing the gay card to take the attention away from the Falcs’ win. Calling it a shitstorm would have been a severe understatement.

“So after that, I made a point of dating publicly. I thought it’d be the one thing that will make all that shit worth it, you know? If I can finally date the way I’d wanted to.” Kent pauses again, picking at the peeling label on his beer. “But I couldn’t make anything stick. I saw a few guys, on and off, but nobody wanted to hang around for the long haul.”

Alexei opens his mouth to protest, but closes it again before making a sound. What is he supposed to say? That Kent is great, those guys don’t know what they’re missing? Kent had no doubt heard such platitudes before. And even if he didn’t, it doesn’t change anything in the here and now.

“And at first I blamed it on the media. It was like a circus every time I dated anyone new, and we had _real_ circuses in Vegas. Nobody with half a brain wanted to be any part of that. And then I blamed it on our lifestyle. You know, the constant travel, missing birthdays and anniversaries and everything. I figured maybe guys just aren’t willing to put up with that shit, the way women are. It’s not fair, but that’s what I thought.”

Kent finally lifts his eyes. They are dark, and flicker with the lights from the TV. Alexei feels caught, unable to look away.

“So I quit. I quit because I was talking to Zimms every goddamn week and he made it sound so good, what he and Bits have. I wanted that too, and I thought I couldn’t as long as I played hockey.”

“That not true,” Alexei protests, “Zimmboni and Bits, they make it work even though he play in NHL. Other guys too. And you Aces captain, two Stanley Cups. You know they not trade you, not send you down.”

Kent blinks, and looks away. “Yeah, I know you’re right. I know guys who have made it work, even the ones that didn’t come out in public. I guess I just didn’t want to admit that it might be just me, you know? That maybe it was just me that wasn’t worth sticking around for.”

“Kent, you not think – “

“So I had to try it, you know? I had to find out. And here I am, retired for two years now, a fucking kindergarten teacher. All the money and stability you’d want. And I’m still single. I guess that’s your answer, right there.”

Kent reaches over to place his beer on the coffee table, and stares at the TV screen without absorbing any of the story. Silence settles over them, heavy and suffocating; the sounds from the movie only seem to make it ring louder.

Eventually, Alexei makes a decision.

“You know, it’s same reason, I’m still keep playing.”

Kent makes an inquiring noise, absently.

“I’m want what Zimmboni and Bitty have, too. But I can’t have if I go back to Russia, still not safe for be gay,” Kent’s head snaps up sharply at this, his mouth falling open in shock, “and I’m want to stay here, keep trying. But I’m not have green card, and can only stay if I keep work visa. So here I am too, 1,300 NHL games and still going strong, yes?”

“You…” Kent seems to be at a loss for words. “You – I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I… you didn’t come out with that group of Russians, did you? I would have remembered.”

“No. I’m thinking, if can’t find anyone here, then one day I’m too old, can’t play, have to retire. Guys with wife, kids, even husband, is easy to stay here, be safe. But for me, without visa, I have to go back to Russia. Can’t be out, if I have to live there again.” Alexei quirks a smile, wry. “Not every Russian can marry Sidney Crosby for citizenship, you know.”

Kent barks out a startled laugh. “Yeah, you’re right about that. Honestly, I’ve got to thank those two, that was the only thing that took the heat off me for a little while.”

They finish their beers in silence after that, but the silence feels comfortable now, free of the tension from before. Or, at least Alexei thought so, right up until the credit rolls and he looks over to find Kent staring at him with a weird look on his face.

“Kent? Is something on my face?”

Kent shakes his head, and shuffles closer on his knees.

“No. I mean, yes. I mean – no. Ok, I have to admit, I had been working off incomplete information before, and now that I know I feel like – you’re leaving in two days.” Kent’s babbling, which means he’s either nervous or defensive, and Alexei can feel his own heart rate picking up right alongside. What is there to be nervous about?

“Like I’m pretty sure when Bad Bob told me to take a page out of Crosby’s book, he didn’t mean the part about climbing the nearest tall Russian,” Kent says, swinging a leg over his lap.

Wait, wha –

“So please don’t punch me if I’m reading this wrong,” he says, and presses his mouth against Alexei’s.

Kent’s mouth tastes like warmth and stale beer, and he’s all compact frame and lean muscle, squirming in Alexei’s lap. When they finally break apart, Alexei has two perfect handfuls of Kent’s impressive hockey ass and is light-headed from more than just lack of air.  

“Kenny,” Alexei attempts, breathless from where Kent’s nipping a trail down his neck, “this not just hook-up, yes? You want this?”

Kent leans back to level him with an impatient look.

“Dude, you think I have that kind of heart-to-heart with just anyone I find on Grindr? Even my therapist had to work hard for it, and _I_ am the one paying _her_.”

“I’m leave in two days,” Alexei reminds him.

“Yes,” Kent agrees, deftly undoing Alexei’s belt with one hand, “how convenient that you’re already here to make the most of it.”

 

* * *

The second time Alexei wakes up in Kent’s bed, he’s got a mouth full of Kent’s soft hair instead of cat fur. It’s a slight, but meaningful, improvement.

Kent is already awake, if the slow, rhythmic grinding on his morning wood is any indication. Alexei hides his grin in the bruise on the back of his neck.

“Good morning, little rat. I’m going to miss you when I’m gone,” Alexei says, and Kent tips his head back on his shoulder to give him better access.

“Mmm, you’ll see me soon enough. Season’s four months away, are you going to be in Russia the whole time?”

“No, I’m come back early, so you not get too lonely, drive Bitty crazy.”

Kent laughs. It’s a bright, happy sound, and Alexei’s already hooked.

“Four months should be enough time for me to find a job in the city,” Kent says casually, and Alexei has to flip him around so they’re face to face. They’ve only started this a day ago, but Alexei is already beyond being able to joke about it.

“You mean it? Come with me?”  

Kent’s grin is the best thing he’s seen since his team exited the playoffs nearly a month ago. Longer, if he’s being honest.

“Yeah, I mean it. And if I can’t find a job, well…” His sparkling eyes take on a wicked glint, “my sugar daddy’s an NHL player, I’m sure he can support my extravagant lifestyle.”

Alexei throws his head back and laughs, delighted. The future feels as bright as Kent’s cornsilk blond hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, and come shout into the void with me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vitamin-metoo) (it's mostly a hockey and RPF blog, so be warned)


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